


Held Me Under

by BeesKnees



Category: White Collar
Genre: Community: kink_bingo, Consent Play, Drugs, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-04
Updated: 2012-12-04
Packaged: 2017-11-20 06:42:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 738
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/582425
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BeesKnees/pseuds/BeesKnees
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Peter is different because Neal can trust him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Held Me Under

He shouldn’t be doing this. He knows that. He’s the good guy here. He’s the one that’s supposed to make smart decisions. The right, moral decision. And this isn’t that. 

But he’s found that he really can’t help himself. 

Neal is pliant beneath him — and he’d even let himself be chained back up. The restraint cuffs are taught against Peter’s bed, and Neal hasn’t even tried to pick them or slip them or anything. His fingers are balled in against his hands, and every now and then he’ll pull a wrist up, pulling against the restraints. But he’s still in them, and that’s the whole point. 

And really, it wasn’t his fault if Neal had fallen in so easily against him when he’d found him at that clinic, drugged out of his mind, was it? He hadn’t protested when Peter had brought him back to his house, hadn’t protested when he’d slipped him into his bed, and then cuffed him again. 

He’d made some small noise when Peter had delved his fingers inside of him, his eyes flickering a little, eyelashes dark against the pale expanse of his skin. And he is so open, every part of his body relaxed, inviting, and warm. Peter’s barely prepared him before simply pressing inside. Neal breathes in sharply then, his eyes opening all the way, pupils blown wide and black, as he gazed up at Peter. His lips formed some word that Peter thought might have been his name, but then Peter was pressing forward. 

He pushed into Neal, because he couldn’t not, and grasped as his hips, massaging the blunt ends of his fingertips into Neal’s skin. 

Neal is far too loud. He’s absolutely keening beneath Peter, keeps gasping every single time that Peter pushes deep inside of him again. He cries out when Peter begins to speed up, and the sound seems to bounce throughout the walls. It simply spurs Peter on, he picks up the pacing and pounds deeper and harder into Neal. He runs one of his hands along the smooth expanse of Neal’s thigh, bringing it up a little, so that he can sink deeper into Neal. Neal lets out something close to a whine, one of his hands moving so that cuffs clink against the side of the bed. 

His eyes are more open that not, and Peter thinks he’s watching him from underneath his hooded eyelids. There’s a sharp flush on his cheeks, and his cock is half hard. 

He reaches down and wraps a hand around Neal’s cock and begins to touch him. He’s slow and gentle, but that’s more than enough to set Neal off. He moves for the first time since Peter had poured him into the bed. He pushes his hips down, and the motion is all off, and Neal can barely seem to control it, but it hits Peter just right. He digs the fingers of his one hand in the flesh between Neal’s arse and his thigh, and the other begins to jerk off Neal off more feverishly. Neal tosses his head on the pillow, his dark hair everywhere. He’s so mussed for once — not remotely in control. The very opposite of the Neal that Peter has grown accustomed to seeing every day. 

“Peter,” Neal half murmurs on an intake of a breath, the sound more a whimper than anything else. And it’s precisely that noise that sets Peter off. He comes, deep inside Neal, groaning as he shoves himself deep inside him once again. He can feel himself slicking Neal, who is still half coherent on the bed beneath him. His hands are turning in the cuffs as if he’s trying to remember how to slip them, but can’t manage. 

When he’s done, but still breathless, he pauses, staring down at Neal Caffrey beneath him; he’s still half-hard, his cock lilting toward his stomach, but Peter has no idea if he’ll be able to get him off like this — and the guilt hits him too hard in the stomach to even thinking about touching Neal. He pulls out quickly, and then reaches down and hastily begins to undo the cuffs. 

Neal catches him as soon as one is off. He grabs at Peter’s wrist, and then slides his fingers along Peter’s cheek as if he’s trying to get him to look him in the eye. Peter can’t manage it.

“You’re the one I trust,” Neal mumbles again.


End file.
